


There Are Things That Are Known

by TheseWords_MyDiary



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseWords_MyDiary/pseuds/TheseWords_MyDiary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are three things Puck knows as he makes his way down the highway toward Lima Memorial: One, she's hurt. Two, someone hurt her. Three, he's going to kill him. AU after season 2; Deals with rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - I'm currently placing all of my fics here at AO3 as well as where they currently reside at ff.net. I feel that authors should have the freedom to create the stories that they feel that they should without being dictated into a certain rating by threats of deletion. A lot of that has been going on at that *other* place, so I decided to bring all of my writing here as well for... insurance, if you will ;) They are also posted at tumblr. The link is in my profile!
> 
> Anyway.. please read and review! I love feedback!

_"There are things that are known, and things that are unknown.  
And in between, there are doors." – William Blake_

When she comes to, Quinn knows three things:

One, it's _dark_. So dark, that for a moment, she wonders if she's gone blind. The small light peeking in from under the closest door tells her that she hasn't. It's just _dark_.

Two, she's alone. Where before, she could hear and feel _him_ breathing, she can't now. There is complete silence, and for that, she is both thankful and terrified.

Three, she's in _pain_. Breathing makes her want to _die_ ; her left shoulder hurts so badly, it's immobile and her right leg feels as if it's on fire. There's a dull, throbbing pain (that's likely only dull because the rest of her hurts so much worse) along the left side and to the back of her head.

She forces herself not to think about the pain between her legs. If she thinks about it, she's going to have a breakdown and a breakdown is _not_ what she needs. What she needs is to get out of here. _Now_.

Pulling herself into a standing position takes all of the strength she has left, and that isn't much at this point.

She's unable to put any pressure on her right leg (doing so almost makes her _scream_ ), so she's forced to lean heavily against the closest wall. Scanning the darkened room with her eyes, Quinn spots her backpack lying a few yards away – where he had thrown it – by the locker room showers. Knowing that she needs her phone and that she's unable to walk there, Quinn carefully drops down to her knees and crawls across the floor to her bag, whimpering the entire way.

Making sure to keep quiet, afraid of him returning, and knowing that she'll never make it home on her own, she searches the contents of her bag and grabs her cell phone in a hurry.

She immediately dials 9-1-1, not wanting to talk herself out of it, and impatiently waits for an answer.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency," finally rings out over the phone, and Quinn finds herself sighing loudly with relief. "Hello," the kind-sounding voice calls down the line when an answer isn't immediately given.

"I-I, uhm…," Quinn starts, whimpering at the pain that immediately blooms in her chest with the movement it takes for her to speak. "I need help…a-an ambulance," she forces out quickly, gripping at her chest in a panic.

"Ok ma'am," the dispatcher replies calmly, which really pisses Quinn off, but she forces herself not to say that. "I need you to tell me your name, where you are and if you can, what is wrong so that I can get someone out there to you."

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she replies, lying on her back again when the pain radiating through her body becomes too much. "I'm at M-Mckinley High School, i-in the girls' locker room a-and…" She closes her eyes, only now realizing that her cheeks are wet with tears. Taking a calming breath, Quinn forces herself to say what she's been forcing herself not to think. "I've been r-raped."

  
**~ GLEE ~**   
  


Puck steps out of his bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets still clinging to his skin. A smile, which has become rare for him lately, plays on his lips at the excitement of going out for the first time in a while. He usually has to babysit his sister because his mom works the night shift on Fridays, but this weekend Bekkah is saying the night at her friend's house, and Puck is going out.

Just as he's pulling his pants on, his phone vibrates loudly across his bedside table, startling him into action. Grabbing himself a t-shirt from the stack of clean clothes he still hasn't put away, Puck dives onto his bed, catching his phone before it falls.

"What, San," he answers, scrambling up from his bed. "Hold your fuckin' horses. I'm on my way to the party now." (So what if it's kind of a lie? He'll be on his way in a few minutes) Clicking the "speaker" button, Puck tosses his phone onto his bed so that he can pull his shirt over his head.

"Britt and I need a chauffeur to the party, so get your ass over to my house first," Santana's bites out, her usual bossy demeanor really shining through, and that can only mean one thing – she's pissed. "Fuckin' Quinn was supposed to drive us after she helped her mom with some shit, but she's not answerin' her goddamn phone." Ah – that it is. Pissed at Quinn, the usual.

Picking up his phone and keys, Puck rolls his eyes at the girl drama and begins walking out to his truck. "Yeah, yeah, Lopez. I'm on my way," he answers testily, as discussing Quinn isn't really his favorite thing to do these days. He hangs up the phone before Santana can retort, kind of getting a charge out of knowing that she'll probably ream him out for it when he gets to her house. She's just so damn easy to piss off…he can't resist.

He pulls into Santana's driveway five minutes later and beeps his horn. No way in _fuck's name_ is he knocking on that front door. Her dad's home, and he doesn't particularly like Puck. Probably has something to do with the whole thing where he used to fuck his daughter, but whatever.

Santana comes out of her house shouting into her phone while Brittany follows silently behind her. She slides into the front seat, a sour look on her face. "You better be fucking bleeding to _death_ , Fabray, because if you're _not_ , I'm about three seconds from going all Lima Heights on your ass the next time I see you," she yells, her face turning red with anger.

It's actually pretty damn entertaining, but Puck's not about to say that and get hit.

"Don't say you're going to drive someone somewhere and _not fucking do it_!"

Puck and Brittany both jump as Santana slams her phone down on the dashboard.

"Relax, San," Brittany says from the backseat of Puck's truck. "Maybe her mom grounded her or something."

Puck pulls out of the driveway and silently begins heading toward Rachel's house. He knows how Santana is. She's hot-headed (like him) and when she's hurt or upset, her first instinct is to lash out. Feeding into her "bitch moments" will only make things worse. (Plus…as much as Quinn's name just pisses him off right now for his own reasons, he still cares about her and he's not going to bash her. Santana wouldn't either if she wasn't so pissed off)

Santana sighs loudly, her anger deflating a little bit. "This is our senior year, and probably one of our last glee parties. She's always fuckin' flaking out."

"Maybe she had other shit to do and she'll show," Puck finally says, rolling his eyes.

After a few minutes of driving, Puck's phone begins to vibrate in the center console, his mom's number flashing across the screen and he immediately rolls his eyes, hoping Bekkah's still staying at her friend's house. He does _not_ want to fucking babysit tonight.

"Yea," he bites out in a meaner tone than he means to.

"Noah," his mother's slightly frantic voice calls down the line and Puck immediately knows that something's wrong. "You need to come down here. Now."

He slams on his breaks, pulling the truck quickly to the side of the road. Ignoring Santana's super bitchy glare, Puck focuses on his mother. "What's wrong, Ma? Are you hurt? Is Beks okay? 'Cause Amy's mom didn't call me, and.."

"No, no," Mrs. Puckerman replies quickly, shooting down his initial thoughts. "It's not me or Bekkah," she clarifies. The next sentence out of her mouth has his mouth dropping open and his heart skipping a beat. "It's Quinn. She was just brought down here from McKinley. She's unconscious and she needs surgery right away."

Puck swallows hard, taking in the information he's just been given and digesting is piece by piece. He's terrified, but suddenly creeps in, taking over his thoughts. "W-why are you calling me and not her mom?"

Mrs. Puckerman sighs loudly into the phone. "Sweety. Her mother isn't her emergency contact. You are. Her papers haven't been changed since she was pregnant, I assume." She pauses for a moment, letting the information sink in. "You need to come down here now. She needs surgery immediately and because she's unconscious and eighteen, your signature isn't needed, but if you want her mother to be informed, you'll need to come down here and have the hospital do that."

"What's…what's wrong with her," he asks, making a U-turn and heading toward the hospital. He can hear Santana huffing and puffing from the seat beside him, but he purposely tunes her out. Her plans aren't really his concern at the moment.

His mother sighs again – something that's really starting to wear on his nerves – before she tells him something that he immediately wishes he could unlearn. "Quinn was raped. She's sustained quite a few injuries, and – "

He throws his phone out the window of his truck. He doesn't want to hear another fucking word.

There are three things Puck knows as he makes his way down the highway toward Lima Memorial:

One, she's _hurt_. So badly that she needs _surgery_. He never, ever thought anything like that would happen.

Two, _someone hurt her_. They intentionally and forcefully hurt her. How could someone do this… and how is she ever going to get over this?

Three, he's going to _kill someone_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - There is a slightly graphic section in this chapter dealing with rape. If you don't want to read it, it's the part in italics. Just skip over it
> 
> Please read and review! I love feedback.

For a minute after she wakes up, Quinn is sure that she's in heaven.

Puck is leaning over her, a bright light and white space shining behind him.

It's a joyous minute, one where she wonders if maybe her imagination had been right when it told her that heaven was filled with all of her favorite things about the world.

Then she takes a breath, and for a lot longer than a minute, she realizes that she's in hell.

Pain grips at her head and her chest and her sides and even lower, and she can't remember, even in all of her most painful moments in the past, wanting to die as badly as she does right now.

"Quinn," Puck murmurs in a softer tone than she's heard him speak in a long time, and if she wasn't in this much pain, she'd smirk and call him a girl just to watch his gaze burn into hers in that familiar, fiery way she's been missing for so long.

"C'mon Fabray…talk to me," he says, frantically, and it pisses her off because this pain makes her want to die and he's trying to tell her what to do.

She barely manages a whimper and that's all it takes for her tears to begin falling and for him to dash out of sight, probably to get a nurse.

She forces her gaze, with more strength than she'd like to admit, to shift around the room , and takes note of Santana with Brittany asleep in her lap watching wide-eyed from a small sofa across the room. She looks exhausted and terrified, and she can't remember the last time hasn't at least said something inappropriate in a serious moment like this. It makes her wonder if she's really that bad off.

"Is it bad," she croaks out, ignoring the fact that her body is screaming in pain for her to just shut up.

When Santana nods, tears slipping down her cheeks as her eyes try to focus on anything other than the blonde in the bed, Quinn's afraid.

Puck walks into the room again, his jaw clinched in what looks like his best attempt at keeping his rising temper from going off and he takes a seat in the chair beside her. "A nurse'll be here in a minute," he mumbles, gently taking her hand in his as if it's second nature and then moves his gaze to her face. His eyes are wide when he suddenly leans forward in his seat. "What happened?"

She just stares at him, ignoring the pain she feels when she swallows and then shakes her head. "I can't remember," she lies, and she knows that he knows it. She knows that Santana knows it. She also knows that they're not going to fight her on it. Not right now.

Puck nods slowly, gauging her facials expression when she answers his question and he knows she's full of crap. She remembers, and she's not saying anything and he can't find it in him to be an ass and argue with her. Not with her laid up in a hospital bed – tubes and equipment coming out of her arms and tears running down her cheeks. He's too worried to argue.

"Where's my mom," she asks, looking around her in confusion. Wouldn't the hospital have called her mother when she came in?

"Puck called her while you were in surgery." Santana moves from her spot on the couch, making sure that she doesn't wake Brittany up before she takes a seat in the chair on the other side of Quinn's bed. "She's here somewhere… went down to get lunch or something," she says flippantly.

"You forgot to change your emergency contact," Puck tells her, answering the questions he assumes are at the tip of her tongue. Why did he have to call her mother? Why was he the first one here?

(Those questions hadn't been on the tip of her tongue, though, because she didn't forget. She's not about to say that aloud.)

Quinn groans loudly, the pain that has been radiating through her body becoming stronger the longer she lies there, and she's trying so hard to keep her sobs at bay because she knows that those will only make her hurt more. Her eyes fall shut and she tries her damndest to just keep breathing slowly.

Puck and Santana can tell that she's having a hard time keeping herself calm in the moment that her breathing becomes labored, and her eyes squeeze shut. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't expecting it. She's bruised and broken and the doctors took her off morphine an hour ago to try to get her to wake up and tell someone who did this to her.

"I'm gonna kill him," he finds himself biting out, his tongue refusing to keep his thoughts inside.

Quinn shakes her head, a fearful look is in her eyes when she forces them open and she whispers a "no" before her tears begin falling faster. "I don't remember… I don't remember," she insists over and over again, praying for this pain to just go away because speaking hurts so fucking much. She's not going to tell him who did this, though, because she knows that he isn't lying. He will kill someone if he finds out who they are.

Puck's eyes widen and he wonders why the hell she's sticking up for this guy after what he's done. He watches her fall apart and then he can't watch anymore so he stands from his chair a little too fast and it clatters to the floor.

It's the loud banging of the chair on the floor that finally sends her over the edge.

XOXOXOXO

_She promises Santana and Brittany that she'll pick them up and take them to the glee party after she helps her mother with some house work._

_She's lying about helping her mother. They've been distant for the last two years, but lately it's become unbearable. She avoids home as much as she can, but she doesn't want anyone else to know about it. What would they think of her if she told them that she regrets moving home? She's the one who decided to go back there two years ago. Why in the world would she deserve sympathy over it not working out?_

_So she decides to take a shower in the locker room at the school – give herself a little time alone before she has to be surrounded by a large group of people._

_No one's around because all of the sports are finished practicing for the day, and she's glad for it. No questions from her friends and no awkward silence between herself and her mother always makes for a good evening._

_She showers quickly, wrapping a towel around herself and then shuffles out toward her locker to get her clothes out of her backpack._

_She's bending over, reaching into the bottom of her bag for her favorite skinny jeans when she hears it – the loud bang of a locker door._

_Spinning around, Quinn gasps as her gaze locks on that of Andrew West – McKinley High School's newest football player and the biggest creep in the halls. He's looking at her intently, which immediately makes her feel terrified._

_"I…uhm…can I help you," she asks tentatively, wrapping the towel around her body a little tighter as she reaches behind her back for the pocket of her bag. If she can just get to her phone and call the first person she can, maybe he'll turn and walk out._

_Andrew just shrugs, his piercing blue eyes seemingly burning through her. "I 'dunno…Quinn, is it? Can you help me?" He takes a quick step toward her, reaching out for her towel. He only misses by an inch when she kicks out at him and backs up._

_"Get out," she bites, clutching her jeans and her bag to her chest to cover herself while she backs up against the tall wall of lockers behind her and tries to search blindly for her phone without him noticing. "You…you don't belong in here. This is the girls' bathroom." She does her best to sound strong and tough…much like her usual self, but she finds that there's a lump in her throat and her voice is shaking._

_He chuckles darkly, then reaches out for her, dodging her efforts to push him away before his hand is tangled in her hair and he's slamming her head hard against the lockers behind her._

_Quinn feels a protruding lock slam against her head, and she knows that the skin has broken before she even feels the warmth of blood against the back of her scalp and her knees start to become a little weak. She drops her bag to the ground in a feverish haste, pressing one hand to the back of her bleeding skull and using the other to hold herself up as she tries to move away from Andrew and along the lockers._

_That's when he is finally able to grab her towel at the back and yank it from her body. He chuckles at her screech, and wraps his hand around the hair at the back of her throbbing head to pull her naked body back and against him._

_"Ow! Stop it," she begins in a scream, which quickly tapers off to a muffled whimper when Andrew's hand is pressed against her mouth while he lowers her body to the ground._

_"Now, now," he whispers, his thumb flicking teasingly across her exposed chest as he presses his weight down on top of her struggling form. "I know that's not what you want, Quinn. I've seen the way you look at me in the halls. You've fuckin' wanted this since I first stepped into this school, and that's exactly what I'm gonna give to you."_

_"I haven't! I don't know you. I don't want anything from you," she cries loudly when his hand moves away from her mouth. She kicks her knee up, mentally praising herself for catching his groin before she rolls over onto her stomach and begins crawling toward her bag. If she can just get to her phone…_

_She doesn't make it three feet before he's standing and wordlessly stomping down onto her leg, a sickening crack and her scream the only sounds emitting from the motion… and then he's on top of her, rolling her onto her back, a predatorial look in his eyes telling her that she isn't going to make it out of here. "You done fighting me there, Fabray," he asks, reaching down to unbuckle his belt with one hand as his other takes her by the shoulder and slams her down onto her back hard enough to make another popping sound._

_The burning, fiery feeling in her leg and then her shoulder are enough to momentarily stun her. Even without looking, she's sure that her leg is broken and her shoulder is at least out of the socket. She can't move either of them, and that's enough to terrify her into not moving at all… until his hands are on his belt and then he's trying to press himself inside her. "No! No… stop it," she cries out, pressing against him with her good arm, trying to push him off of her to no avail. "I haven't done anything to you! I haven't done anything!"_

_Without a word, Andrew's fist is pulled back and then he's slamming it down onto her ribs, breaking them, she's sure… and then his eyes gaze is back on hers, and his eyes are blue and for a moment, Quinn thinks that they're beautiful. It's the dumbest thing for her to think in this situation, but she does._

_"You are not going to fight me again," he tells her, a warning look in his eyes as he moves himself between her legs again._

_And she doesn't. She just stares wide eyed, a shocked look on her face at the fact that this is actually happening._

_She doesn't cry out in pain when he presses himself inside her, and he doesn't like that so he presses harder and harder until she's screaming with every thrust._

_Quinn Fabray is never going to forget him._

XOXOXO

She's screaming, and thrashing and her entire body is on fucking fire, and she doesn't even give a damn. She wants out of this bed, out of this nightmare.

And then Puck is leaning over her again, his forehead pressed to hers while his hands are moving through her hair. She can't hear what he's saying, but his voice is so gentle, she's able to calm down at the sound of it.

"You remember," he whispers, whether his words are a question or a statement, neither of them is sure.

All she can do is nod…and then her eyes are closed and there are tears running river tracks down her face. "What…did he…do to me," she whimpers, her good arm coming up to drape over the back of his neck, holding him closer.

She feels Santana sit down at her side again, running her fingers comfortingly through her hair, and for a moment she feels terrible for screaming because she knows that she's woken Brittany up.

Then a nurse comes in and asks her if she'd like something to help her sleep for a little while. She nods, her eyes focusing on Puck's, which are still baring straight into hers… his "shh" and his hands on her head are just as soothing as before... and she nods wordlessly.

There's a cold rush through her IV drip, and she's in a dreamless sleep before she can really even think about it for another second.

She doesn't see or feel the tears escaping Puck's eyes and dripping onto her head as he's bent over her… trying desperately to protect her from something that has already happened.

As Quinn's eyes fall closed and her breathing finally evens out, Noah Puckerman knows one thing:

He's going to find out whoever the hell this guy who hurt her is… and he's going to kill him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, please? :)

Figgins holds an assembly after school on Monday, and Puck has to literally be forced by Santana to attend. He knows what Figgins is going to say and he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s heard it enough over the last few days, and he feels like if he has to hear one more person relay another paraphrased, non-emotional version of what happened to Quinn, he might freak the fuck out.

Santana knows this. She feels the same fucking way, but she won’t let him skip it. He kind of hates her for it.

“It sucks. I know it,” she says. “But I’m planning on tuning Figgins out so I can search for nervous faces.” She shoots him a meaningful glance, and that’s all it takes for Puck to stop fighting and follow her into the gym.

Quinn still hasn’t given up the identity of the douche-bag who did what he did to her (he still can’t even think the “R” word), so the police have hit a roadblock. The doctors took DNA samples and sent them to some lab, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to catch the guy. If he doesn’t have a record, he’s probably not in the system, and that’s what they would need to catch him.

Puck sits in angry silence while Figgins and some guy named Detective Gilmore he’s already spoken to nine times relay this information to student body. He glances around the room looking for any asshole that doesn’t look like they’re shocked by the news, but he’s out of luck. 

Everyone in the room is staring at the makeshift stage in the center of the gym with various looks of disgust on their faces, and for the first time since Friday, Puck is actually glad that Quinn’s going to be away for a while. At least while she’s in the hospital for the next few weeks (because that’s what happens when your body has literally been broken), she’s not going to be subjected to random looks of pity. He’s not her and even he hates seeing it.

Figgins goes on to assure everyone that a surveillance system will be placed in McKinley this week, and Puck literally has to bite the inside of his mouth in order to keep himself from standing up and asking him why the hell Quinn had to get hurt in order for them to take these kinds of precautions.

Puck is done listening after that. 

He taps his foot in time to the second hand on the clock and counts down the minutes until it’s time to go home. As soon as the bell rings and Figgins dismisses everyone, Puck is up and out of his seat, bolting it to his truck. 

He ignores everyone who tries to stop him, throws his backpack into the backseat of his truck, and leaves. 

Fuck school, fuck glee, fuck football… he’s going to see Quinn.

XOXOXO

  
She has dreams (nightmares) that she’s still lying on the floor in the girls’ locker room and he comes back for her. In her dreams (nightmares), she doesn’t get out of there. He finishes her off.

The way he does it always varies – strangling, a gunshot, stabbing – but the way that it ends is always the same. She’s not spared her death like in those dreams where you fall off a building or get pushed under water and you wake up before the end comes.

No. She always jolts out of her sleep after her dream self has fought as hard as she could and the world has still gone black.

It always happens when the blinds are closed and her hospital room is still dark, and she’s always convinced for the first few seconds that she’s really dead; dead and alone.

And Puck is always there with his surprisingly soft voice and calming words, so it’s only a few moments before she’s able to collect herself. He assures her that she’s ok. She’s alive. She’s not alone.

But today… today is different. When her dream self has fought and lost and died, Quinn Fabray wakes up to a room that she knows is empty. Puck is at school and her mother is God only knows where, and she’s alone. She hates it. 

She hates everyone for it. She hates herself for it.

She lies there breathing deeply, trying to calm her racing heart and her aching body when the door suddenly opens and Puck – her angel – walks through the door.

“Hey,” he says, his usual look of nonchalance playing across his features as he walks through the door. But then he notices the tears on her cheeks, the terror in his eyes and she doesn’t know how, but he immediately knows what’s wrong. “Woah… hey,” he whispers, crossing the room to approach her carefully. He sits down in the chair beside her bed and quickly takes her hand. 

“You weren’t here,” she sobs, hating herself for acting and feeling so damn needy. She’s Quinn Fabray. She’s strong. She never needs anyone… only right now, she does. 

“I know,” he whispers, his free hand moving to brush gently against her wet cheeks. He’s afraid to touch her anywhere else. “I’m sorry.”

Quinn closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and then shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs, coming to her senses. “You have school. You have a life.” She presses the button on the remote beside her so that the back of the bed lifts and she is forced (painfully) to sit up. She hesitantly pulls her hand from within Puck’s and smoothes out the wrinkles in her sheets. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’ll be fine,” Puck corrects, and he knows that he’s pissed her off because she shoots him a deadly glare. He ignores it. At least the Quinn Fabray he knows isn’t completely lost. “You’ve got broken ribs, a broken leg, a fractured wrist, an injured shoulder and a fractured skull. You’re hurt, Quinn. You’re not fine.” He stares at her for a moment, waits for her to nod and goes on. “But you will be, and I’ll help you. Just… stop pretending.”

She swallows hard and then looks down at her hands. “I just hate this.”

“I know. Me too, but it’s ok to complain a little bit. You’re allowed.”

Quinn closes her eyes, leans her head back against her pillows and then opens them again to look at him. “You skipped glee club,” she says, affectively changing the subject.

“There was somewhere else I’d rather be,” he says with a shrug and then reaches for his backpack. He completely misses the moment where her eyes light up at his words. “I brought something that I thought might cheer you up!” He pulls the items from his bag and turns to look at her, an excited expression playing on his face. “My Xbox 360 and Super Mario Bros. Wanna play?” 

Quinn giggles quietly, and then nods her head. “Sure. Hook it up.” She’s awful at the game, but she could use the fun distraction.

They play a few rounds, and she loses repeatedly, but she smiles and she laughs for a little while. She has a good time.

And that’s exactly what Puck was aiming for.

XOXOXO

  
Detective Gilmore comes in a few hours later and the happiness that was floating around between them quickly dissipates.

The guy’s been here a lot over the last few days; asking questions and looking for specific answers. Quinn’s still not giving him anything to go on.

“Ms. Fabray,” he begins, sitting down on the sofa that has been Puck’s bed since Friday. He rests his elbows against his knees and fixes Quinn with a serious look. “I understand that you’re afraid of the repercussions here. I get it, but if we don’t find out who this guy is, he’ll be free to do what he’s done again; to you or to someone else. Now, I know that you don’t want that, and we both know that you remember exactly what happened Friday night.” He shoots her a pointed look and sits up straight, taking out his notepad and pen like he’s done every time he’s come in since Saturday afternoon. “Can you please tell me the name of the person who did this to you?”

Quinn shoots him a pointed look of her own, and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry Detective Gilmore, but I don’t remember who he is.”

Puck and the detective exchange glances before the man stands up, bids them goodbye and leaves the room. 

Puck has to count to ten before he breaks the silence. He can hear Quinn swallowing back her usual sobs, and he can see her trying to look strong even though she’s lying there, literally broken right now. He hates it. Why won’t she just tell someone who this guy is?

“Quinn,” he starts quietly, shaking his head. He reaches for her hand, but stops when she quickly recoils, wincing at the movement. “No one is trying to hurt you here, you know. We just want this guy put away where he belongs. Don’t you wanna go to bed at night and not have to worry about the fact that the asshole who did this to you is still out there?” He’s speaking to her quietly, as if she’s a child because he knows that if he’s too loud with her, she’ll freak out. Either with anger or sadness, he can never be sure, but he’s really trying to prevent it. 

He knows he’s lost the battle when two alligator-sized tears roll down her cheeks, and she begins fighting to hold back the large sob that they both know will just kill her broken ribs. 

“I don’t remember,” she insists, knowing that they’re about to have the same conversation that they’ve been having over the last few days. She doesn’t care. She knows Puck, and she knows what he’ll do if he finds out who did this to her. He’ll get himself arrested trying to get to Andrew before the police do, and she’s not going to let him do that.

It’s probably a stupid reason to keep quiet about something this serious, but she’s doing it and she doesn’t care at the moment.

Puck just shakes his head at her, runs his hands through his hair and silently debates going out for a walk to cool down. “Quit lying,” he says, his eyes flashing with his barely concealed anger. “We’re trying to help you, Q. Don’t you understand that?”

“Yes. But… I’m not ready, ok?” The flood gates open and her sobs break free, and soon Puck is rubbing her back, feeling like a complete douche for making her cry like this. “I just… can’t talk about it.”

Puck nods his head and does his best to gently soothe her. “It’s ok,” he whispers. “You wanna wait to talk about it? Go ahead. Take as long as you need.” He feels like an idiot for saying it like he feels that way because he doesn’t. He doesn’t want her to wait. He wants her to confide in him; he wants to catch this guy… but she’s hurting and he cares too much about her to hurt her by trying to force her to talk.

His words do the trick, and Quinn’s sobs quickly stop and soon she’s relaxing into his comforting touch. She turns her head to look at him, and then reaches for his hand. Bringing it up to her lips, she kisses his palm and then gently presses it against her face. “I’ve always felt the safest with you,” she murmurs, her heavy gaze moving up to meet his. “I’m sorry that I forgot that.”

Puck stares at her for a few seconds, fairly certain that he has stopped breathing or something. He feels light-headed and his heart is beating a million miles a minute. Finally, he’s able to swallow hard, heave a great sigh and then he shakes his head. “I’m sorry for forgetting that, too,” he whispers, his thumb gently grazing her chin. He leans forward hesitantly and presses a kiss to her forehead.

He sits there for a few minutes, watching her eyes grow increasingly heavy before they finally close – her exhaustion from confrontation taking her over completely. Her breathing evens out a few seconds later and he knows that it’s safe to do what he does next. Puck glances at the door to make sure that no one is coming in before finally resting his face in the crook of his arm against the bed.

And right there in the middle of Quinn’s hospital room, with a wish that everything would just get better already, Noah Puckerman sobs like a baby.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you like it? Please review it!


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